


Kiss Me, Darling Devil Divine

by MrSandman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (it gets somewhat fluffy towards the end), (it’s not significant but it is referenced), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Trans Character, Trans Harry Potter, Trans Male Character, musical theatre, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSandman/pseuds/MrSandman
Summary: I’m back on my Harry Potter nonsense, solely because I found this languishing half-finished on a notes app and for some reason inspiration struck, so I picked it back up and finished it! Any wild inconsistencies in tone probably stem from the fact that I must have started this in about 2014 or 2015, and have just now finished it in 2020…Written for the prompt: "we absolutely hate each other but we’re the romantic leads so i guess we have to make this work", because you can't tell me that musicals don't exist in the wizarding world. I refuse to believe it.(I genuinely have no idea where this prompt came from, but I can only assume that it was probably a tumblr post back in the day!)This takes place a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hogwarts had school plays every year in this ‘verse, and Harry is a trans guy, because I said so. (She Who Must Not Be Named will just have to deal, I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I think that is largely the extent of the context that you’ll need? But please do let me know in the comments if anything is confusing.Title from Kiss Me, Kate, from the musical Kiss Me, Kate! (Note my heavy-handed hinting at the musical they adapt and perform...) This was very kindly read over by Rory, so thank you, you absolute star! <3(The teen rating is for the swearing and a heavy make-out scene near the end, with notable innuendo - the final eight paragraphs are innuendo-free, if you need to skip once that scene starts!)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Kiss Me, Darling Devil Divine

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back on my Harry Potter nonsense, solely because I found this languishing half-finished on a notes app and for some reason inspiration struck, so I picked it back up and finished it! Any wild inconsistencies in tone probably stem from the fact that I must have started this in about 2014 or 2015, and have just now finished it in 2020…
> 
> Written for the prompt: "we absolutely hate each other but we’re the romantic leads so i guess we have to make this work", because you can't tell me that musicals don't exist in the wizarding world. I refuse to believe it. 
> 
> (I genuinely have no idea where this prompt came from, but I can only assume that it was probably a tumblr post back in the day!)
> 
> This takes place a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hogwarts had school plays every year in this ‘verse, and Harry is a trans guy, because I said so. (She Who Must Not Be Named will just have to deal, I guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯) I think that is largely the extent of the context that you’ll need? But please do let me know in the comments if anything is confusing.
> 
> Title from Kiss Me, Kate, from the musical Kiss Me, Kate! (Note my heavy-handed hinting at the musical they adapt and perform...) This was very kindly read over by Rory, so thank you, you absolute star! <3
> 
> (The teen rating is for the swearing and a heavy make-out scene near the end, with notable innuendo - the final eight paragraphs are innuendo-free, if you need to skip once that scene starts!)

Draco hadn't known what he was getting into, really. He had only really auditioned at his mother's insistence - she was so very worried about him, now that the War was over, since he was spending all his time sitting around _thinking_. He never left the house, and she knew that what he needed was something to occupy his time, really, so why didn't he just go along to an audition? She had heard about a play that seemed like it would be perfect, and his father needn't know, she would make sure of it. 

It was only then that Draco had looked down at the piece of parchment that his mother was holding, to see what was very clearly a musical, with two male leads. A _romantic comedy_ with two male leads. 

"Firstly, Mother, I've now got the message, so _please_ stop bombarding me with ridiculous "It’s okay to be gay!" leaflets and the like. Secondly, you know I can't _stand_ musical theatre, and thirdly, I've seen this one, and I'm not sure this call can be right, because it's supposed to be a man and a woman."

"I know, Draco, but this is a deliberate decision on the part of the director! Goodness knows the Ministry still has work to do to, you know, to secure your rights, and this might be a good way to encourage popular support. It's been a year, Draco. You cannot just pretend that the outside world doesn't exist. Besides which, this is a chance for you to be a part of something bigger." His mother smiled at him gently, and a little sadly. 

"I've already _been_ a part of something bigger, Mother, and look at how _that_ ended," Draco snapped. 

"Draco, you know I didn't mean-" his mother started, but Draco interrupted her. 

"I know you didn't, Mother. I'm sorry. I'll go to the audition, if it will make you happy."

***

And that was how Draco ended up standing outside the rundown little theatre at the end of Diagon Alley, hating the fact that he was so nervous. Nervousness meant that one cared, and Draco most certainly did _not_ care about this sodding musical.

Stepping into the foyer of the theatre, Draco let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He hadn’t a _clue_ what he was doing, hadn’t even checked the flyer stating that auditions were taking place beyond confirming the time and the location, and he was _sure_ that the whole thing would go terribly. But he’d promised his mother that he would go, and she was the one person that he really hated to let down. 

So, there he was. About to step into the theatre itself. Shaking some of the tension out of his limbs, Draco threw his shoulders back and stepped into the room. 

Ah. _Bugger._

He should have guessed, really. More importantly, he should have run for the hills as soon as he saw Granger sitting there in the director's chair, chatting to a short witch with bright red hair and lime green glasses. 

"I should have known that _you'd_ be at the helm of this little project, Granger," Draco said disdainfully, his heart still hammering in his chest. "You always were the champion of the poor and the meek, weren't you? What, have the house elves finally told you where to go?"

"Ah, Draco. Please, do call me Hermione. Your mother warned me that you were coming," Hermione said coldly. The little red-headed witch, who was presumably the casting director, looked back and forth between the two, trying and failing to hide her curiosity. 

“She did _what?”_ Draco exclaimed. Neither Hermione nor the other witch seemed particularly phased by his outburst. 

“Ah, performers and their temperaments,” the witch said in a musical French accent, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

“Yes, quite, Céline,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “Well then, Draco, let’s just get on with this, shall we? Would you like to make your way on to the stage and give us your interpretation of the lines?”

“ _Absolutely,_ ” Draco said bitingly, stalking up the stairs and stopping behind the curtain at stage left, ready to make his entrance as the script dictated. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and waltzed on, stopping downstage and giving it his all. Draco Malfoy would _not_ stand for being accused of doing things by halves.

As he reached the end of the scene that he’d prepared, with Céline reading out the rest of the lines, he looked over and saw Hermione giving him a contemplative once-over. Convinced that she was looking for the words to let him down gently, Draco felt his face growing hot with anger, and launched into what some might have called a diatribe.

“Oh, _I_ see, you’re looking for a way to get rid of me now, aren’t you? Not quite what you had in mind for your clean-cut, white picket fence, _we-gays-can-fit-into-a-heteronormative-society-too_ type production, am I? I’d put good money on my being _far_ more qualified for the role than the _vast_ majority of those who have auditioned already. I was in _every_ school play at Hogwarts in a _starring_ role, though I take it you were too busy mucking around with Potter and Weasley to notice! But oh, no, I just won’t _gel well_ with the rest of the cast, or I’m _just not quite right_ for what you’re envisaging, is that it? Just tell me that you don’t want me in your production so that I can go, already…”

“Yes, that’ll do quite nicely,” Hermione remarked as Draco’s rant ran out of steam, a smile appearing on her face briefly but disappearing just as quickly. “Thank you, Draco. We’ll be in touch.”

Confused and irritated, Draco stormed down the stairs to the stage and out of the theatre without so much as a ‘thank you for considering me’. He knew that he was being unconscionably rude, and his mother would certainly roundly censure him for it later, to say the least. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though, anxious to return to the window seat in his room and stare out at the garden, as was his usual wont. He’d tried his best, and it wasn’t _his_ fault that Granger couldn’t be impartial if her life depended on it. His mother would just have to like it or lump it.

***

Draco was surprised to find a letter and small parcel addressed to him when the family owl delivered the post a few days later. While he usually left anything addressed to him unopened on the side table for weeks on end - not that he regularly received post, if he was honest - something in him made him open this straight away, slicing through the envelope with the delicate silver letter-opener that his mother kept next to the letter stand.

Draco’s instincts were apparently second to none, because the letter was from Hermione, informing him that she’d like to offer him the role of Lyle in her musical, and attaching a copy of the script for him to read over. The first read-through, the letter informed him, would be that same day, at four in the afternoon. Draco looked at the mantel clock, noting with alarm that it was already nearly midday, and he was far from prepared for the read-through. 

Hastily snatching up the letter and the script, Draco disappeared into his room, emerging several hours later dressed in appropriately smart attire for public consumption, and feeling only marginally more prepared than he had done before he’d read through the script. Apparently, he was really doing this. 

Taking a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece, Draco sucked in a breath and threw it into the fire, instructing it to take him to Diagon Alley. 

Once there, Draco stepped out of the fireplace and smoothed down his coat, the script tucked into the leather satchel clutched tightly in his other hand. He made his way to the theatre, no less nervous than he had been before his audition, and indeed no less in denial about it. 

Stepping back into the foyer, Draco tried to shake off some of the nerves, breathing in the sort of musty, yet homely smell that theatres tended to emit. Draco couldn’t recall feeling more at home anywhere else - there had always been a bizarre sense of security that could be felt throughout Hogwarts’ heavily disused theatre, and Draco had always felt at least a modicum of safety when he was in there, no matter the external circumstances. 

“I can do this,” he muttered to himself, wiggling his fingers on the handle of his satchel and stepping into the theatre proper.

***

“... I can’t do this,” Draco said loudly, as he came to a stop somewhere around Row F and saw the tousled head of Harry Potter pop out from behind the curtain at stage right.

“Malfoy?” Potter’s eyes appeared to grow to twice their usual size and he took a step out from behind the curtain, before tripping over his own feet and landing on his arse. 

“ _Potter,_ ” Draco got out between gritted teeth, his eyes flashing with anger. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I, er, I’m in the musical. I’m playing Fred,” the other man replied weakly, and Draco whipped around to glare accusingly at Hermione. 

“ _You!_ ” Draco pointed a finger at Hermione, stalking down the rows of seats towards her. “You _knew_ this would happen! What kind of _sick_ little game are you playing, _Grang-_ I mean, _Hermione?”_

“I’m not playing _any_ kind of ‘sick little game’, as you put it,” Hermione replied disdainfully, forming the scare quotes with her fingers. “You and Harry both fit the parts, and so I cast you. I _assumed_ that we’d be able to put all that school-age rivalry behind us, but _clearly_ I was wrong.” 

“No, no, you’re quite right,” Draco said hurriedly, worried that Hermione would fire him before they’d even had the read-through. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Draco fished for his script and tossed his satchel aside, making a swift about-turn and heading for the steps up to the stage. Draco assumed a position downstage as the other actors filed in around him, Harry eventually taking up a central position next to Draco. 

Standing there right next to Potter, feeling the other man’s eyes on him, Draco’s irritation levels spiked sharply. Here was a man with no acting experience to speak of, who looked even _more_ uncomfortable with the role he’d been given than Draco was, and yet somehow _he’d_ been cast as the second lead? Draco felt his mouth moving before his brain had officially signed off on what was due to come out of it, unable to resist hurtling a sarcastic comment Potter’s way. 

"Of course _you're_ able to waltz in here with no knowledge of the theatre and no acting experience, _Potter_. Did Granger just _happen_ to think that you were the best, then?" The rest of the cast stopped whispering and chattering to stare at the pair, but Draco was too worked up to notice. 

"Oh, just shut up, Malfoy. If you _must_ know, she cast the musical _around_ me." The other man had clearly realised how that sounded, and looked a little sheepish. Draco rolled his eyes. Of _course_ Potter would immediately be inducted into any wizarding pursuit in which he expressed even the vaguest of interests, like some kind of bizarre cross-industry nepotism. Typical _Boy-Who-Lived_ behaviour.

“Of _course_ they did,” Draco muttered under his breath, kicking a chair hard enough to send it skidding across the stage. The rest of the cast had to jump in various directions to avoid it, and one young wizard even fell off the stage in the process. 

“Draco! That’s _enough,_ ” Hermione said firmly, and Draco sighed longsufferingly. 

“But this is ridiculous! First you pair me up with _him,_ ” Draco moaned, “and now you’re nag, nag, _nagging_ at me about my conduct as if _I’m_ not the one with several years of starring roles in the annual school plays under my belt! And who put you in charge, anyway? I can’t believe I have to work under _you._ ”

"Listen, _I'm_ not thrilled to be directing you _either_ , but I'm _trying_ to be professional, so could you _please_ act like a grown up for once, and get on with it?" Hermione's hair was quivering. Draco wasn't sure that he had ever seen someone's hair quiver. 

“Yes, _fine,_ let’s get on with it then,” Draco hissed, folding his arms across his chest. He was fully aware of the fact that he resembled a petulant child who wasn’t getting his own way, but at that point he had committed to a full-on sulk, and he wasn’t prepared to back down.

Okay, so Draco supposed that there was _some_ merit to the thought that the sooner they finished the readthrough, the sooner Draco could go home, fix himself a stiff drink and forget that the read-through had ever happened. Until he inevitably had to attend another rehearsal, only to repeat the process all over again. _Bollocks._

***

Rehearsals did indeed continue in that same vein, with Draco skulking about the stage, and Potter rolling his eyes so often that Draco felt that he ought to be worried about pulling a muscle.

Eventually, Draco began to get into the role a little, enjoying swanning about the stage in his role as Hollywood’s darling leading man. Potter in turn seemed to warm up, too, though Draco supposed that being a charming yet smarmy git came fairly naturally to him, after all.

But he couldn’t deny that Potter was being awfully _nice_ to him. He frequently offered to run lines with Draco, and brought over coffees and snacks from the refreshment table when Draco refused to get his own for fear of being forced to socialise with the rest of the production and, dare he say it, partake in _chit-chat_. He even went so far as to tell Draco to “call me Harry, for goodness’ sake,” which Draco did somewhat reluctantly. (He may also have stumbled through a request that Harry call him “Draco - it is getting a _bit_ ridiculous now.”)

Frankly, Draco found the whole thing utterly baffling, and continued to treat Harry with _almost_ as much derision as before. He had to admit that it was nice to have one member of the cast and crew who evidently didn’t hate his guts - aside from Céline, who knew nothing of Draco by virtue of being an alumna of Beauxbatons and thought him simply another mercurial thespian - though where Harry had dredged such deep forgiveness from, Draco could not say.

However, he and Harry would still come to blows in every rehearsal without fail, and it was always when it came down to the final scene, and the dreaded kiss. At those times, when Draco refused point-blank to plant one on Harry, he could see the mask slip briefly, Harry’s infamous temper rearing its ugly head.

But Draco just _couldn’t_ bring himself to kiss Harry. Yes, okay, the man was undeniably attractive - Draco was in denial, he wasn’t _oblivious_ \- but Draco found himself bottling it every time the scene came around. Perhaps it was because he was _sure_ that despite everything, Harry still couldn’t stand the sight of him. Draco still had his dignity, thank you very much, and he refused to kiss Harry if the thought was so utterly abhorrent to the other man. 

How this plan was supposed to work out in the actual performances, Draco wasn’t sure, but he’d figure something out. Yeah. He would work it out.

***

As it turned out, Draco _couldn’t_ just ‘figure something out’, as he had so naïvely assumed. The weeks and months of rehearsals were but a distant memory, the dress rehearsal had been and gone, and now it was the opening night.

Just those two words, _opening night_ , had been enough to send Draco into a full-blown panic as he saw them emblazoned across the front of the theatre. He’d had to duck into the shadow of a neighbouring building for a few minutes and breathe into the crumpled paper bag that he’d conveniently found in his coat pocket. 

_God,_ how was he going to get through an entire play pretending to fall in love with Harry Potter, let alone _repeat_ it for the rest of the play’s run? Draco’s lunch churned angrily in his stomach, and he was sure that he must have looked rather green around the gills as he stomped up the steps to the theatre and in through the front doors. _Oh god._

As it turned out, Draco needn’t have worried, because the first half went as smoothly as could have been expected. He knew that he wasn’t giving his best performance, and that he was still a little awkward around Harry onstage as well as offstage, but the audience ate up every moment of their comic will-they-won’t-they act, and Draco found himself grinning widely when Harry put him down after carrying him offstage at the end Act One. Draco grabbed at Harry’s arms to steady himself and his hands found their way to the other man’s biceps. To the other man’s very _firm_ biceps, Draco noted. 

A moment later, Draco realised that he had been holding on to Harry for a _little_ longer than might be considered socially acceptable, and looked up dazedly from where he had been staring at his own hands to meet Harry’s gaze. There was something of a challenge in Harry’s eyes, and Draco wasn’t sure what to make of this. 

“Come with me,” Harry said quietly, and dragged Draco off into the rabbit warren of corridors behind the stage. 

Stopping in a hallway lined with what looked to be some large metal heating pipes, Harry turned to Draco and placed his hands on his hips. 

“Right, I’m tired of beating around the bush about this. Draco Malfoy, I want you to kiss me.”

Draco’s jaw didn’t _quite_ hit the floor as it fell open, but it was certainly a close thing as far as he was concerned. 

“I- _what?”_ he spluttered, staring at Harry in disbelief. 

“You heard me. Kiss me! We’re about to do it onstage in under two hours, and everyone’s going to know that we’ve never done it before. So, kiss me!” Harry spread his arms wide in a gesture that he presumably thought said _‘have at me’_ in the most welcoming way possible, but which had Draco immediately cowering in fear. 

“A-absolutely not,” Draco replied, and Harry dropped his hands in exasperation. 

“Why the bloody hell not?” 

“Because… because… because I don’t _want_ to,” Draco finally managed, avoiding Harry’s gaze to stare at somewhere around his knees. 

“You _what?”_ Harry exclaimed. “Why did you take the part if you-”

“Well, _Potter,_ I didn’t expect to be paired up with _you,_ did I! Look, I’m not interested in kissing you, or _any_ other man, in _any_ pointless bloody musical!”

"Oh, I'm sorry, of _course_ , it's _perfectly_ reasonable to audition for a love story about two blokes when you're _totally_ uninterested in men, and _definitely_ don't want to kiss one onstage in front of hundreds of people!"

"That's not what I meant! And would you _please_ be quiet,” Draco hissed, looking around to see if any of the stagehands were lurking nearby. 

"So you _are_ willing to admit that you're into guys? Whatever _will_ your father say?” Harry laughed scornfully, and Draco felt his face contort into a scowl. 

"Merlin’s beard, just _shut it._ I thought we’d left the low-blow jokes back at Hogwarts,” Draco muttered in disgust, and Harry’s face fell. 

“Fuck,” he replied with feeling, and Draco rolled his eyes. Eloquent as ever. “I’m sorry, Draco, that was out of order. I don’t know what came over me. I really didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did,” Draco said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “And I do understand. Why I drive you so batty, I mean. Ever since you got out of that _god-awful_ Muggle household you’ve always been leading the fight, out on the front lines. Shouting from the rooftops about the causes you believe in. So, it pisses you off to put in all that effort, and then to see me and my inner conflict, and my complicated relationship with… _this_. It’s hard to be around me, and my nerves, and my self-loathing, which are _rapidly_ diminishing with each passing day, might I add.

“But the thing is, Harry, that I’m still a work in progress, whereas you’re _so_ much further along in your journey that you’re like some ancient Greek sculptor’s masterpiece, compared to me. Yes, I know who they were - I did pay _some_ attention in Muggle Studies and History of Magic, though admittedly only when you weren’t looking.” Harry laughed reluctantly at this, though the crease between his eyebrows remained. 

“ _Draco…_ ” Harry stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Believe me, I am _so_ far from being a masterpiece. Yes, you’re right - I do find it hard to be around you, and maybe I _do_ have some internalised issues to work on. But mostly what _drives me batty_ , as you put it, is the fact that I’m trying _so hard_ to tell you that I _like_ you, and all I get back is you rebuffing me, making my life a living nightmare for months of rehearsals, and… and being an absolute _git!”_

“But that’s just _it,_ Harry! I… I _do_ … like you…” Draco’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Harry had to lean forward to catch the last two words. Upon hearing them, he reared back in shock, almost knocking his head against Draco’s as he pulled away. 

“ _You what?”_ Harry’s green eyes were as big as saucers. Draco couldn’t help himself, getting the dig in before his brain had time to catch up with his mouth. 

“Keep up, Potter,” he goaded, and Harry lightly cuffed him on the arm, rolling his eyes even as a crimson blush spread out across his face. 

“Okay, alright, I set _myself_ up for that one really. But… are you serious?”

“Yes, _obviously,”_ Draco said, fiddling with the cuff of his shirtsleeve. “Honestly, Harry, I would describe my behaviour as nothing less than _blatant.”_

Harry laughed at this. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he replied, “you were pretty obvious. I just can’t believe it took us this long!”

“And _I_ can’t believe that it’s taken _you_ this long to kiss me,” Draco scoffed, his heart beating out a samba in his chest. He let out a nervous breath and took a chance, reaching out and taking hold of one of Harry’s hands to thread their fingers together. 

“My, my, what an oversight on my part,” Harry said faux-courteously, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Harry stepped impossibly closer to Draco and reached up to brush a lock of hair away from his brow, making Draco shiver slightly at the contact. 

“May I…?” Harry placed his hand on Draco’s cheek, leaning in until their mouths were mere inches apart. Draco could see each individual, unreasonably long eyelash framing Harry’s eyes, fanning up and down as Harry blinked. 

“Oh for goodness’ sake-”

Draco cut himself off as he hooked his other hand around the back of Harry’s neck, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Harry’s. 

“Mmph,” Harry mumbled eloquently at Draco’s change in demeanour. Draco smirked into the kiss, delighted to have caught Harry by surprise in his boldness. This had the unexpected effect of slackening his mouth, which Harry took as an invitation to brush his tongue against Draco’s. 

While Draco’s gasp of surprise began its life as such, even Draco couldn’t deny that it ended its life a breathy moan. Harry snorted through his nose in amusement, letting out a full-on guffaw when Draco pulled away and glared at him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry said contritely, but Draco could see him holding back a grin.

“Hmm,” Draco replied suspiciously, raising an eyebrow, before reeling Harry back in and kissing the smirk off his face.

Draco wasn’t sure exactly how long he and Harry stood in the hallway kissing. He had lost track of the time somewhere around the five-minute mark. At one point, Harry had gently pushed him against the wall and lazily slotted a leg between Draco’s thighs, which Draco found to be very agreeable indeed. So agreeable, in fact, that he really ought to move away from Harry now, lest the wardrobe department berate them for, er, _sullying_ their costumes.

“Okay, I think I may have to tactfully retreat,” Draco admitted, glancing down at his trousers pointedly.

“Not a problem for me,” Harry teased, stepping back and wiggling his hips in a way that shouldn’t have sent sparks of electricity southwards, but really, _really_ did. Draco had never claimed to be a rational man, after all.

Suddenly, Harry stood up ramrod straight and schooled his features into an approximation of innocence, some eerie sixth sense evidently kicking in. Draco froze on the spot at the sound of Hermione’s voice moving progressively closer.

“Draco! Harry! Where have you _been?”_

Hermione’s voice was stern, but when Draco rapidly sidestepped Harry to face her, the ghost of a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Er, right here, Hermione,” Harry stuttered, his face red as a beetroot. Draco shifted his gaze and saw his own face in the lenses of Harry’s glasses, though it was much paler than it had been before.

“Yes, well… you’d better not run off again in tomorrow’s interval,” Hermione chided, a proper smile spreading across her face against her will. “Now both of you get back to your dressing room, so that someone can touch up your makeup! Go!” She shooed them back down the hallway and disappeared off to somewhere, presumably to politely harangue someone else on the cast or crew, Draco thought.

“Shall we pick this back up later?” Harry asked, running a hand down Draco’s arm. Draco suppressed a shiver, instead assuming his customary All-Purpose Smirk, perfectly suited both to exude arrogance and to cover up sheer panic.

“Indeed we shall,” Draco whispered conspiratorially, winking back at Harry with more confidence than he felt as he strode ahead down the corridor.

Stopping abruptly before the entrance to the dressing room, Draco felt Harry walk into his back with a quiet “oof”. He spun around to face Harry, his eyes wild with fear.

“B-but, what now? We have to _kiss!_ Onstage, I mean,” Draco clarified, the reality of being in a musical and _performing in front of everyone_ finally setting in.

“Draco, we’ve… we’ve just been snogging in a dusty corridor. We were at it a while,” Harry said slowly, looking at Draco like he was a Hydra that had just grown an extra head.

“Yes, I know _that_ … but now we’ll have an audience! My _mother_ is in the audience! So many people that I know, or that know me… they’ll all know…” Draco said faintly, feeling a little lightheaded. 

“Hey. _Hey_ ,” Harry replied, placing his hands on either side of Draco’s face in a manner that Draco found to be rather soothing indeed. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll be up there together, yeah? When we get to that part, don’t focus on the audience, or the rest of the cast. Pretend it’s just you and me.”

“You and me,” Draco repeated, a small smile crawling on to his face. 

“You and me,” Harry confirmed, taking hold of one of Draco’s hands to lead him into the dressing room. 

_This was… okay,_ Draco thought to himself as he stepped into the room, rearranging his hand to interlace his fingers more securely with Harry’s. _No, more than that - this was good._

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, the musical I had in mind was Kiss Me, Kate! I figured that if Hermione and Harry were both raised in the Muggle world pre-Hogwarts, they’d definitely be familiar with Muggle musicals. Hermione would probably write a handy guide to the characters and references for the attendees, to be handed out alongside the programme! And I feel like Muggle culture would become Draco’s not-so-guilty pleasure after the end of the war, when he finally had a chance to develop his own thoughts and opinions on things. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop by and say hi on twitter (@hetheyharkness) or tumblr (kingisdead), should you so desire it. Comments, kudos etc. are very much appreciated! Have a great day :D


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